The Remedy for Stage Fright
by Roguester
Summary: The laughter originated from their chests, traveling to the back of their throats like little bits of lightning, all hacking and gagging, but in a good way. (Trily, one-shot)


Title: The Remedy for Stage Fright  
Author: Roguester  
Spoilers: This ficlet takes place after "There Will Be No Encore."  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, but I think Caalan does.

---

There will be no encore. The band will not play tonight. The lead singer will be crying backstage.

She will be crouched down on the floor, chin to her knees, her voice still hoarse from all the yelling. Then, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand, she will swallow one more tear-stricken sob as she stretches out her legs. She will laugh at herself and cover her ears so she wouldn't have to hear her own voice anymore. Then, after a second or two, she will realize how stupid she looks and assume her original position: crouched down on the floor, chin to her knees, her voice still hoarse from all the yelling.

She thought she sounded like an idiot screaming out his name like that, as the words "Ray," "don't go," and "I love you" lingered fresh in her mind. Her band mates glared at her with a mix of embarrassment and shock, but they sensed that she didn't care so they just went about their business. Parker and Megan could simply pack up their instruments and leave, but Lily couldn't just 'pack up' what she did and bail. She'd already scattered her baggage all over the stage and it's too late to take it all back. Everyone had already seen it. Everyone but Ray.

So there will be no encore. The band will not play tonight. The lead singer will be crying backstage.

She will watch the janitor sweep the neon-colored fliers off the floor as they fade into the quiet sound of the empty dance floor. She will recall everything that had happened that night and think about the if's and but's and everything-that-could-have-been's. In her mind, she will scream, "Ray, don't go! I love you!" and he will turn around, leave Grace behind, and yell, "I love you too!" at the top of his lungs. They will kiss passionately and everything will be alright. Everything will be okay.

Except that wasn't how it happened.

She sang her song and played her guitar and called after Ray when she was done. She screamed his name and yelled out her feelings as the crowd buzzed about, drowning her almost-desperate declaration. She was stricken with stage fright: not because she was afraid of performing in front of people, but because she did perform in front of people. And in the process she began to question her actions – was she seen? Was she heard? Did Ray know how she felt? Or worse yet – did Ray hear her pleas and ignored her anyway?

Footsteps echoed throughout the empty club, causing Lily to look up. Before her stood a 15-year-old boy who seemed to have aged ten years since she last saw him. He was tired and weary, she knew, because his brows were furrowed and his eyes were downcast. Travis Strong didn't need any introductions.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," he said, "Did you wanna walk back to the station?"

And Travis only had one reason for going to the station at this time of night: to get away from it all. The station was his security, his salvation. It was where he worked, where he played, where he _lived_. It was where he went when he felt depressed.

"Why, are you depressed or something?" Lily asked.

"Or something," Travis replied, "And you?"

"Obviously you weren't here when it happened. I um… told Ray that I loved him. Well, actually I told the Soundwave crowd that I loved Ray. No, okay… actually, I screamed 'I love you Ray' to the Soundwave crowd as he walked out of the club with Grace. Right after they made out. In front of me. While I was singing him the song that I wrote."

"The song about the dog?" Travis laughed.

"No, you idiot, I wrote another song after that one. It was good too, you know. You should've been there. You should've heard it."

Travis sat on the floor next to Lily – chin up and legs crossed – his back resting against the wall. A pang of guilt hit him hard on the base of his neck as Lily told him the lyrics to her song. He should have been there, he thought. He should have heard it. He should have been in the front row cheering her on, or booing her, or knocking some sense into her, or something.

"Were you afraid?" Travis finally asked, "Were you afraid that he didn't hear you?"

"No," Lily responded, "I was afraid that he did."

Travis combed a frustrated hand through his now-limping hair and bit his lower lip in deep contemplation. "What did you expect to happen anyway?" he prodded, "That Ray would just turn around, leave Grace behind, and yell 'I love you too' at the top of his lungs?"

Lily rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated breath. "Give me a break, Travis. The important thing is that I had the courage to tell him that I love him."

"See, I don't think that's true," Travis stated as Lily looked at him with a confused glare, "because that's not really the most important thing to you. To you the most important thing is for Ray to turn around, leave Grace behind, and yell 'I love you too' at the top of his lungs. Otherwise you wouldn't be this devastated."

Defeated, Lily scoffed and shook her head in an attempt to dismiss the subject. "What are you doing here again? You depressed or something?"

"Or something," he replied.

In the next ten minutes the 15-year-old boy who have aged ten years will fight a battle against himself. He will start a sentence and pause mid-syllable before he could even utter a single word. He will vacillate between telling Lily the real reason why he was backstage with her and telling her the fake reason why he wanted to go back to the station. He will avoid her gaze and play with the worn-out laces of his shoes, or the chipping cement off the floor, or the crumpled hem of his shirt. Or something… or something.

He will yearn for some friendly comfort, but would decide against it. He figured that he could be man enough to handle a little rejection. He figured that he could just sleep on it and deal with the situation all by himself. Shhh… he didn't even need to tell anybody. Not Robbie, not Ray, and not Lily.

Except his plan didn't work out. That's why he was sitting on the floor – chin up and legs crossed – his back against the wall… vacillating between telling Lily the real reason why he was backstage with her and telling her the fake reason why he wanted to go back to the station. He yearned for some friendly comfort, but he figured that he didn't need to tell anybody. Not Robbie, not Ray… but maybe Lily. Maybe Lily.

"Bridget broke up with me tonight," Travis finally admitted, "I wish I'd heard your song instead."

With a small compassionate smile on her lips, Lily suggested, "Wanna turn back time and switch places?"

"No. Either way we'd still be screwed," Travis whispered back, "I guess that's why they say 'life's a bitch,' you know? Life's a bitch so just… fuck it, life's a bitch and that's it."

"And which smart ass philosopher came up with those famous words?" Lily joked.

"A very heartbroken Travis Strong," he answered. He stole a few glances towards Lily and contemplated on whether he should tell her his whole story. But once again he stumbled over his words – pausing mid-syllable – as he failed to complete yet another all-important sentence. His mind stuttered through his thoughts, unable to make any decisions regarding his current situation and his own self-preservation. Should he tell Lily? _Can _he tell Lily?

This was supposed to be awkward, he insisted, because a lifetime ago he had kissed her and their relationship wasn't supposed to be the same again. And yet there he was, sitting on the floor next to her, struggling for words to say. Struggling for words because he felt like he was supposed to feel awkward and he doesn't – as if his discomfort was spurred on by the calming effects of her company.

"I told Bridget that I love her," he said with a slight chuckle, "I don't know why – I, um… wasn't even sure I meant it. But I know… I know that I didn't want her to leave. I know that I wanted to be with her…"

Lily watched Travis with concerned eyes and listened to his every word with intense curiosity. She knew what he meant. She knew how he felt. Looking at him made her feel like she was watching her own story unravel before her. With an open mind she continued to listen to his voice, and with her calming silence she urged him to continue.

"I guess it was a little bit premature. I mean we're young, right? We can't possibly say those words and expect everything to come up rainbows and roses..."

Travis rubbed his temples and pinched the bridge of his nose, fatigue clearly evident in his eyes.

"My optimism definitely got the best of me. Optimism. Ego. They're the same. Bridget was my best friend, right? We have this extensive history together. I thought our relationship was _that _solid so I expected a guaranteed 'I love you too.' Man, I was so wrong. It really was a bit premature. I guess we were a little too early."

"Or maybe we were a little too late," Lily said. She gave Travis a sad but reassuring smile and reached out for her guitar. With soft fingers she mindlessly plucked at each string, producing a group of random notes that quickly filled the empty club. "Hey Trav," she finally said, "What was it that Ray said to us earlier? You know, about Pronto's take on love."

"Oh, that. Yeah, something about missing calls and fixing your hair." Travis laughed, "To be honest, he lost me somewhere between phones and blow dryers."

Lily lightly tapped her guitar as she managed a soft giggle. "Yeah, Ray almost lost me too," she whispered, her voice trailing off as the obvious metaphor slowly entered her mind. Still plucking at her guitar strings, she quickly dismissed the thought and turned her attention back to Travis. "So, Mr. Strong… any comments? Suggestions? Advice?"

"Let's see," Travis replied, "Advice number one: get caller ID. Advice number two: get an answering machine. Advice number three: stop using blow dryers… the heat will only damage your hair."

The laughter originated from their chests, traveling to the back of their throats like little bits of lightning, all hacking and gagging, but in a good way. They sat doubled over on the floor, poking fun at recent events, joined together in a silly song for the lovelorn, all hacking and gagging, 'til the janitor kicked them out for the first time. The guitar continued to strum its random notes, impromptu karaoke contest on the stage, holding the unplugged microphone next to their lips as they sang in front of imaginary crowds… of imaginary Ray's and imaginary Bridget's.

Tapping sounds of scampering feet echoed through the premises as the two friends bustled about, scattering discarded Soundwave fliers everywhere after the janitor had kicked them out for the second time. Then, after the rapid breaths have settled down, they collapsed on the stage floor; all limp hair and crumpled hems, waiting for the clock to strike twelve… ten minutes to midnight.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Lily exhaled, stains of faded makeup now dampening her shirt, "Ego. Optimism. Confidence. No matter how positive… could always end up like this. You'll never know 'til it happens. It just hits you like a ton of bricks. You'll never know 'til it happens."

"So, what do we do now?" Travis asked, "What helps you deal? What's the all-curing remedy?"

"Waking up in the morning. Knowing that I'd still be miserable. Except this time I have someone to be miserable with." Lily paused, a wave of relief and contentment washing over her face. "And that makes me happy."

"Two kids happy in misery," Travis smiled, "Together."

"Yeah, together," Lily whispered back.

And there they sat, all limp hair and crumpled hems, not finding the answers that they were looking for, but satisfied nonetheless. There they sat, chin to their knees, their voice now hoarse from all the laughing. Then, as the janitor kicked them out for the third time, quickly dusted off their jeans and headed for the exit...

The full moon peeked through the clouds. The clock struck twelve.

THE END

---

_A/N: Boo-ya! Just when I thought I'd never write another RFR fic again, inspiration suddenly hit me in the head. Well anyway, here it is. I hope ya'll like it. It's all about teh Trily friendship, man._

_But before I go, here's a song rec for ya' ass (cuz I never leave without recommending a nice song that will go with my fic): _Guitar and Video Games _by Sunny Day Real Estate_


End file.
